It Was Never Meant To Be
by Ukyou
Summary: It has been ten years since he had left. Syaoran decides to take a train back to Tomoeda, but while doing so, which old friends will he meet? How much as his old hometown changed? How has Sakura changed, 10 years after they were forced to part?
1. - The Intro

Never Meant To Be  
  
by Ukyou  
  
www.clownet.com  
  
www.ukyo.cjb.net  
  
Syaoran walked amongst the grassy fields behind his home, a shallow creek cutting through it like a snake, winding endlessly through the landscape. The sky was cloudy, as if someone had faded away the bluish sky in order to view it in a new prespective. His hand ran against the grass, his camera by his side pressed against the notepad and pencil he held within the same hand.  
  
There was a tree in the foreground, amidst the light drizzle of summer rain. The rain had left small drops of water upon the swaying grass, the melody of lute echoing through the air as the grass swifted from side to side. It was quite tall, up to Syaoran's waist, and it seemed to go on for miles. The tree fogged into view as he neared it, his eyes squinted as to see what was ahead of him.  
  
'This must have been the place.' he thought to himself, the sweet piano tune haunting him as he lifted his camera to take a photograph. He could remember what had occured in this field, his hands gripping his camera tightly, shaking from the occurance of so many specters. It was dramatically striking to him that his memories would have caught up to him, as the grass seemed to grow shorter. The tree sprouted leaves, Sakura appearing below the tree.  
  
He knew it must have been a dream, but what he saw then was a total recreation of what had remained within him for so long. It was the day he had finally parted with Sakura, possibly the only one he could ever admit to truly loving, and he was a slave to that day now, reliving it while only allowing himself limited view of the camera lens.  
  
He then saw Sakura walking turning and walking towards him, and he lowered his camera to see her. She was angellic in the impression her image gave him. She walked towards him with the step of a dancer, her hair weaving with the wind. He could not reach to her, however, nor did he have the courage to speak. His words were held back from deep within him, his very soul bubbling at her sight.  
  
He longed to say something to her though, but stayed silent. The silence however, it was his confinement, something he resented.  
  
...but then he got the courage to yell out her name, just once...but silenced in a matter. She could not hear him...instead, she disappeared from sight completly, leaving Syaoran all alone in the desolate field.  
  
'...dammit...'  
  
...and then Syaoran found himself jumping himself awake in his bed. The clock by him blinked with all 11's, the light swinging above his head. He had obviously had another nightmare, one part of a long series of nightmares.  
  
Sakura...her face still etched into his mind, his futile attempts written in blood upon his thoughts, clouded forever by these dreams. He got out of bed, walking into the bathroom where he twisted the knobs to take a shower. It usually took some time for some hot water to come out, so he walked into his living room, which was mostly empty. The closet he now used as a darkroom for his photographs, the dining room table covered in various papers, ranging from literary works of his own to his usual studies at his college. There was a door that led out to the balcony, one that he had never set foot upon, and out his 2nd story room, he could see nothing more than the restaurant across the street.  
  
It was never a life he wanted. He longed for a companion, but never was able to get one. His apartment seemed more like a workplace than his own private abode.  
  
The life of a photographer was hard, and he usually worked freelance...or just took pictures completly out of his own time. Other times, he would write, something he found that would supress his heavy feelings.  
  
Syaoran could soon feel the steam comming from inside the bathroom, and he walked to the shower.  
  
---  
  
The time after shower and before classes were always a time alone with a cup of tea. The kettle would boil over the gas stove, and he would lounge on his couch, waiting for the distinctive whistle from the kitchen.  
  
It had been well over ten years since Syaoran had last seen Sakura. He knew that their relationship would eventually have to end, as he was to return to China soon after the clow cards were all captured and sealed. He told her that it would have to end, before they would have to be forced to live an empty long-distance relationship, almost as promising as it was now. There was no such thing between the two, and he knew that.  
  
He had been all alone since then, moving back to Tokyo to continue his education, but he had returned an outcast, a mere flicker of what he had once been. He was broken down, his camera his only window to the world. His writing was his way to communicate with it as well, but it was mostly ignored by others, unwilling to read his writings.  
  
Yes, it was a dreary life he led, but it was his life. It was the only life he was to have.  
  
...but something inside of him longed for something more. Something much, much more.  
  
How could Sakura react...as to seeing him now...  
  
He could only imagine, but wasn't sure if he could handle her expression at all, her reaction to seeing his face. Would she be the one to walk away this time?  
  
...but there was no more time to think. The whistle had gone off in the kitchen, and Syaoran went to enjoy a cup of tea.  
  
No time for reminiscence, unless for a few precious minutes filled with it.  
  
  
  
~cont 


	2. Chapter One - Reminiscence

It Was Never Meant To Be  
  
by Ukyou  
  
www.clownet.com  
  
www.ukyo.cjb.net  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own CCS. Got that? Good. Then don't sue my lazy ass.  
  
---  
  
Chapter One  
  
---  
  
The train was thirty minutes late.  
  
I took a quick glance at my wristwatch, pulling up my sleeve as I did so. Other trains raced by on the other tracks, mockingly going in the opposite direction, or going the way I was to go...but passing me by on the way. The station was empty, the sun just barely hanging in the transparent flourescent sky.  
  
I held the bag across my shoulder, my hair held back by a hand of gel and a comb. I dressed as well as I could, but it seemed to me that I probably wouldn't be able to make the interview. My watch was a few minutes early anyway.  
  
It was a short walk back to my home, but I decided to stay at the station. The next train would leave for Tomoeda, my old hometown. I took a seat on the bench, watching the boarding times as the wind blew by. I held a suitcase in my hand, my hat hanging from my head. The camera, as usual, tied about my neck, the lens cap limply swinging from its string.  
  
Perhaps a time of nostalgia would appease my mind for awhile.  
  
Just a little while.  
  
The train was actually quick to come this one time, the doors opening as I walked forward. I sat in a seat in which the dry leaves blew outside my window, the crispness in detail easily noticed. My suitcase laid on my lap, I adjusted the lens and checked the film. Raising my camera, I took a picture of the scene outside my window, just as the train was to leave. Then, the roar of the tracks went off, and the photograph was forever lost, never to be seen in that way again...but captured on my roll of film.  
  
It was probably a few minutes, probably a half an hour. My watch was never set for the right time, so it wasn't anything for me to regard, but the clock on the ceiling told me so. I picked up my suitcase and walked out of the train, the only one to step foot on the concrete floor of the station.  
  
Beautiful town it had turned into, but still left the way I had left it. Trees still stood at the corners of streets, the grass was freshly mowed, and the air smelled of fruit, mixed in slightly by the scent of the bakery nearby. It was almost completly silent as well, which enticed me to walk down the steps for a quick walk down the sidewalk, which was cracked from age.  
  
The lamps had been replaced since I had last been here, as were the fences near the park. The penguin-shaped slide still stood though, emblazoned with a new coat of paint. The park was almost empty, not including several joggers and a child flying a kite in the air. I would question just to why a child would be outside when the clouds gave the hint of rain. As far as I knew, I would've never gone outside with such a clue, Meiling would also force me not to go.  
  
Speaking of Meiling...I wonder how she's doing back home...I haven't seen her for ages...  
  
---  
  
Five hours later, I found myself sitting in a chair inside a restaurant, a stage set up with a black grand piano, emphasized by the downfall of light from the spotlight. I had yet to wait for my Chagnier to arrive, ordering it by the glass as if I were accompanied by another. I had not yet ordered my meal, as I was taken in by the small playlist on the side of my table, one that listed the performances for the night.  
  
...and scrolling down it, I recognized a name from my childhood...  
  
...Tomoyo Daidouji...  
  
I had never known she could play piano...and to see her again, if this was truly her, it would be quite an experience. Perhaps she knew where I could find the others of our group as well. It wasn't another hour until she would start playing though, which meant that I had enough time to enjoy my glass, even if it meant to take my time.  
  
---  
  
She walked in with an applaude, her exterior that of a blue evening dress. I must have admitted it myself, she was quite stunning. I doubt Eriol would drop someone like her if he could see her at this moment, unless he had already done so.  
  
She sat upon the piano stool as if the wind had picked her up and dropped her there, her fingers just barely tracing the keys. It came from the silence, her music, flowing and yet dashing. I laid back in my seat and signaled for another glass, the waiter doing so immediatly. her long black hair traced out of the spotlight, and if there were wind, I could've replaced her image with that of an angel.  
  
She soon finished her song, the place empty except for me and a few others, a mild clap comming about. It was late, not exactly the most popular time for the piano atractees. She took a breath before beginning her next song, the bartender washing off the counter.  
  
'I wrote this one myself. Not exactly anything to relate to myself, but instead...probably just to emotion. I wanted to create something beautiful one night, staying up late in order to get this one stuck in my head. I hope you all enjoy this.' she introed, putting her hands in the fantastic waltz about the keys. It was absolutly beautiful indeed, the composition a drug to my hears, forcing me to listen harder.  
  
...and it was that way well into the night, as she kept on sustaining that emotion with every song she played. It came to the point in which I was alone once again, but with Tomoyo playing the piano on the stage without ever knowing it was me spectating her, it was quite a strange feeling. She could play on, even if whom she played to wasn't there, or if there wasn't a full audience. I was the only, and yet she still played with all her heart.  
  
Absolutly stunning.  
  
~cont  
  
  
  
--  
  
You think this one was good? I damn well hope so, considering that it only took one really really beautiful song to write. Actually, two. I'll provide them here (but cuz this is written in notepad, i can't make links. Just copy the url of the song and d/l it) so you can reread this story with either song and see that they both blend in so well.  
  
every song hides a story  
  
---  
  
http://xara.xarcos.com/audio/backend/gfdl-chocodownload.php?zig=/Final Fantasy X Piano Collection/13 People of the North Pole.mp3  
  
Absolutly inspiring. I love these piano refurbishes! Makes you feel all calm and suttle, but still makes you know that there is a tear hidden behind each eyelash.  
  
---  
  
http://xara.xarcos.com/audio/backend/gfdl-chocodownload.php?zig=/Final Fantasy X Piano Collection/10 Via Purifico.mp3  
  
No need to go through a whole para of writing, just know that this song is really friggen amazing when it comes to writing.  
  
I'll post up various song titles to ones that inspire a certain chapter, so you can keep updated^^ 


	3. Chapter Two - Cup of Coffee

Never Meant To Be by Ukyou  
  
www.clownet.com www.ukyo.cjb.net  
  
Syaoran walked amongst the grassy fields behind his home, a shallow creek cutting through it like a snake, winding endlessly through the landscape. The sky was cloudy, as if someone had faded away the bluish sky in order to view it in a new prespective. His hand ran against the grass, his camera by his side pressed against the notepad and pencil he held within the same hand.  
  
There was a tree in the foreground, amidst the light drizzle of summer rain. The rain had left small drops of water upon the swaying grass, the melody of lute echoing through the air as the grass swifted from side to side. It was quite tall, up to Syaoran's waist, and it seemed to go on for miles. The tree fogged into view as he neared it, his eyes squinted as to see what was ahead of him.  
  
'This must have been the place.' he thought to himself, the sweet piano tune haunting him as he lifted his camera to take a photograph. He could remember what had occured in this field, his hands gripping his camera tightly, shaking from the occurance of so many specters. It was dramatically striking to him that his memories would have caught up to him, as the grass seemed to grow shorter. The tree sprouted leaves, Sakura appearing below the tree.  
  
He knew it must have been a dream, but what he saw then was a total recreation of what had remained within him for so long. It was the day he had finally parted with Sakura, possibly the only one he could ever admit to truly loving, and he was a slave to that day now, reliving it while only allowing himself limited view of the camera lens.  
  
He then saw Sakura walking turning and walking towards him, and he lowered his camera to see her. She was angellic in the impression her image gave him. She walked towards him with the step of a dancer, her hair weaving with the wind. He could not reach to her, however, nor did he have the courage to speak. His words were held back from deep within him, his very soul bubbling at her sight.  
  
He longed to say something to her though, but stayed silent. The silence however, it was his confinement, something he resented.  
  
...but then he got the courage to yell out her name, just once...but silenced in a matter. She could not hear him...instead, she disappeared from sight completly, leaving Syaoran all alone in the desolate field.  
  
'...dammit...'  
  
...and then Syaoran found himself jumping himself awake in his bed. The clock by him blinked with all 11's, the light swinging above his head. He had obviously had another nightmare, one part of a long series of nightmares.  
  
Sakura...her face still etched into his mind, his futile attempts written in blood upon his thoughts, clouded forever by these dreams. He got out of bed, walking into the bathroom where he twisted the knobs to take a shower. It usually took some time for some hot water to come out, so he walked into his living room, which was mostly empty. The closet he now used as a darkroom for his photographs, the dining room table covered in various papers, ranging from literary works of his own to his usual studies at his college. There was a door that led out to the balcony, one that he had never set foot upon, and out his 2nd story room, he could see nothing more than the restaurant across the street.  
  
It was never a life he wanted. He longed for a companion, but never was able to get one. His apartment seemed more like a workplace than his own private abode.  
  
The life of a photographer was hard, and he usually worked freelance...or just took pictures completly out of his own time. Other times, he would write, something he found that would supress his heavy feelings.  
  
Syaoran could soon feel the steam comming from inside the bathroom, and he walked to the shower.  
  
---  
  
The time after shower and before classes were always a time alone with a cup of tea. The kettle would boil over the gas stove, and he would lounge on his couch, waiting for the distinctive whistle from the kitchen.  
  
It had been well over ten years since Syaoran had last seen Sakura. He knew that their relationship would eventually have to end, as he was to return to China soon after the clow cards were all captured and sealed. He told her that it would have to end, before they would have to be forced to live an empty long-distance relationship, almost as promising as it was now. There was no such thing between the two, and he knew that.  
  
He had been all alone since then, moving back to Tokyo to continue his education, but he had returned an outcast, a mere flicker of what he had once been. He was broken down, his camera his only window to the world. His writing was his way to communicate with it as well, but it was mostly ignored by others, unwilling to read his writings.  
  
Yes, it was a dreary life he led, but it was his life. It was the only life he was to have.  
  
...but something inside of him longed for something more. Something much, much more.  
  
How could Sakura react...as to seeing him now...  
  
He could only imagine, but wasn't sure if he could handle her expression at all, her reaction to seeing his face. Would she be the one to walk away this time?  
  
...but there was no more time to think. The whistle had gone off in the kitchen, and Syaoran went to enjoy a cup of tea.  
  
No time for reminiscence, unless for a few precious minutes filled with it.  
  
~cont  
  
--- Chapter One ---  
  
The train was thirty minutes late.  
  
I took a quick glance at my wristwatch, pulling up my sleeve as I did so. Other trains raced by on the other tracks, mockingly going in the opposite direction, or going the way I was to go...but passing me by on the way. The station was empty, the sun just barely hanging in the transparent flourescent sky.  
  
I held the bag across my shoulder, my hair held back by a hand of gel and a comb. I dressed as well as I could, but it seemed to me that I probably wouldn't be able to make the interview. My watch was a few minutes early anyway.  
  
It was a short walk back to my home, but I decided to stay at the station. The next train would leave for Tomoeda, my old hometown. I took a seat on the bench, watching the boarding times as the wind blew by. I held a suitcase in my hand, my hat hanging from my head. The camera, as usual, tied about my neck, the lens cap limply swinging from its string.  
  
Perhaps a time of nostalgia would appease my mind for awhile.  
  
Just a little while.  
  
The train was actually quick to come this one time, the doors opening as I walked forward. I sat in a seat in which the dry leaves blew outside my window, the crispness in detail easily noticed. My suitcase laid on my lap, I adjusted the lens and checked the film. Raising my camera, I took a picture of the scene outside my window, just as the train was to leave. Then, the roar of the tracks went off, and the photograph was forever lost, never to be seen in that way again...but captured on my roll of film.  
  
It was probably a few minutes, probably a half an hour. My watch was never set for the right time, so it wasn't anything for me to regard, but the clock on the ceiling told me so. I picked up my suitcase and walked out of the train, the only one to step foot on the concrete floor of the station.  
  
Beautiful town it had turned into, but still left the way I had left it. Trees still stood at the corners of streets, the grass was freshly mowed, and the air smelled of fruit, mixed in slightly by the scent of the bakery nearby. It was almost completly silent as well, which enticed me to walk down the steps for a quick walk down the sidewalk, which was cracked from age.  
  
The lamps had been replaced since I had last been here, as were the fences near the park. The penguin-shaped slide still stood though, emblazoned with a new coat of paint. The park was almost empty, not including several joggers and a child flying a kite in the air. I would question just to why a child would be outside when the clouds gave the hint of rain. As far as I knew, I would've never gone outside with such a clue, Meiling would also force me not to go.  
  
Speaking of Meiling...I wonder how she's doing back home...I haven't seen her for ages...  
  
---  
  
Five hours later, I found myself sitting in a chair inside a restaurant, a stage set up with a black grand piano, emphasized by the downfall of light from the spotlight. I had yet to wait for my Chagnier to arrive, ordering it by the glass as if I were accompanied by another. I had not yet ordered my meal, as I was taken in by the small playlist on the side of my table, one that listed the performances for the night.  
  
...and scrolling down it, I recognized a name from my childhood...  
  
...Tomoyo Daidouji...  
  
I had never known she could play piano...and to see her again, if this was truly her, it would be quite an experience. Perhaps she knew where I could find the others of our group as well. It wasn't another hour until she would start playing though, which meant that I had enough time to enjoy my glass, even if it meant to take my time.  
  
---  
  
She walked in with an applaude, her exterior that of a blue evening dress. I must have admitted it myself, she was quite stunning. I doubt Eriol would drop someone like her if he could see her at this moment, unless he had already done so.  
  
She sat upon the piano stool as if the wind had picked her up and dropped her there, her fingers just barely tracing the keys. It came from the silence, her music, flowing and yet dashing. I laid back in my seat and signaled for another glass, the waiter doing so immediatly. her long black hair traced out of the spotlight, and if there were wind, I could've replaced her image with that of an angel.  
  
She soon finished her song, the place empty except for me and a few others, a mild clap comming about. It was late, not exactly the most popular time for the piano atractees. She took a breath before beginning her next song, the bartender washing off the counter.  
  
'I wrote this one myself. Not exactly anything to relate to myself, but instead...probably just to emotion. I wanted to create something beautiful one night, staying up late in order to get this one stuck in my head. I hope you all enjoy this.' she introed, putting her hands in the fantastic waltz about the keys. It was absolutly beautiful indeed, the composition a drug to my hears, forcing me to listen harder.  
  
...and it was that way well into the night, as she kept on sustaining that emotion with every song she played. It came to the point in which I was alone once again, but with Tomoyo playing the piano on the stage without ever knowing it was me spectating her, it was quite a strange feeling. She could play on, even if whom she played to wasn't there, or if there wasn't a full audience. I was the only, and yet she still played with all her heart.  
  
Absolutly stunning.  
  
--- Chapter Two ---  
  
It was damp in the alleyway, dark as well. The moon danced in the sky, the clouds allowing for a deep decreshendo for impression. Tomoyo had a thick coat on, her heels giving small ripples to the puddles on the ground. I snuck out the side door and followed her, her shadow overtaken by the lights of the street ahead of me. It was blinding, and I had to squint slightly in order to be able to make her out.  
  
'Tomoyo!' I yelled from behind her, but she took no notice. Instead, she merely walked onto the street and signalled for a taxi. I exited the alleyway, turning my head to see her standing there, alone minus a few passerbys. It was near obvious she was waiting for a taxi, but the streets were empty, completly desolate.  
  
The rain had stopped, less down to a mere trickle of a drizzle. Tomoyo's hair had small crystals of water gently flowing down it, which gave it all an angelic impression with the lights of the street luminant.  
  
It was not until she turned around that she noticed me. It was a quick glance that brought my face to her mind once again, and she stood staring at me, as if she could not believe who it was. Still, her reply was one that made me feel as if she had discarded any ideas she had of who I was. She simply asked if I was a photographer.  
  
I held up my camera, and nodded to her. It was followed by a few minutes of silence, until she started to look down. She took a breath, her face rising once again, but the emotion that it expressed was different than before.  
  
'Ok, look. I'll take you to my place, and we'll talk over a cup of coffee, ok?' she offered in a voice in which I could not say no to. Instead, I kept silent and waited for a taxi alongside her. The shoes I was wearing quickly became damp and uncomfortable. The water seeped down in small invisible strands, streaming down with open hands on my thick jacket. My camera hung limply from my neck, the lens cap had gotten loose and was swinging from its string.  
  
Then, the taxi finally came.  
  
---  
  
It wasn't too big, yet it was comfortable. Tomoyo hit the door once and it went flying open, the apartment she lived in gave out a warm air as she did so. She took off her jacket and hung it on a peg. I did the same, putting my portfolio down on a side table, but keeping the camera around my neck.  
  
'It usually takes me awhile to make anything warm in here, although the place does a good job doing it by itself.' she said, walking into the kitchen. 'Take a seat, make yourself comfortable.'  
  
There was a large red chair in a corner of the room, and I took my time to sit in it. There waas a remote near me, the TV placed on a small coaster on the other side of the room. I didn't bother to turn it on, instead, I clicked my camera open and rolled out the film. The light hung from the ceiling, and I lifted the film to view what was imprinted upon it. Each square came to focus as the light came stalking from behind.  
  
'You know, you could damage the film that way.' Tomoyo said from out of my view. I turned around to see her, she was untying her hair and letting it down. 'I'll take it that you just don't care, do you?'  
  
'This film is what I see through my eyes. What is the point of allowing yourself to be blind waiting for the finished photograph, when it will merely be quickly looked at and discarded? If you see it this way, you observe it much clearer, knowing that it will perish soon after you do so.' I answered, continuing to glance at each picture as if she had never posed a question.  
  
'That is quite a wasteful thing to do' she said back to me, walking back into the kitchen as her kettle gave out a familiar whistle. '...but I guess its just a photographer thing. Anyways, get in here already and have some tea.'  
  
I did so.  
  
The seats were made of wood. Obviously a lot of time had been taken to make them, as I could see that they were handcrafted. However, I must add that even with all this time put into it, it is still a very uncomfortable chair.  
  
'So, Syaoran, why'd you come back to Tomoeda all of a sudden? You having a fit of nostalgia all of a sudden?' she asked me, lifting the small cup to her lips. She had rubbed the lipstick from the side of her mouth very unprofessionally. I couldn't help but laugh.  
  
'Excuse me? Whats so funny all of a sudden?' she asked me puzzled, and I picked up a paper towel and soaked it with my tea. I then cleaned off her mouth, showing her the red stain that was now on the towel. She had to laugh also.  
  
'Well, Tomoyo, you've become a pianist I see...' I stated, throwing the towel into the wastebasket. 'Do you have a piano in this apartment?' I foolishly asked, knowing that she didn't have the room for one.  
  
'Actually, no I don't. I have a friend though that has a piano, and usually I go to his house to play.' she answered. 'Afterall, I do wish I could have one of my own...but thats back at the old house, and you don't need to know whats keeping me away from there.'  
  
'I see.' I answered. I didn't know exactly what to say to her, nor did I know what I was going to say when I caught up to her in front of the restaurant. I was just lucky up to now that she had been leading most of the conversation.  
  
It was like that for a few minutes, until she asked a question that turned the table around completly.  
  
'Syaoran, what have you...been doing since you moved?' she asked me, the tea quickly becomming cold as it was followed by a long pause of silence.  
  
'Well, I came back to Japan for the college, and I've been working freelance as a photographer to keep up my apartment and what I have right now on me.' I answered, waving my hand over the tea to see if it had cooled slightly.  
  
'Syaoran Li the photographer, I could never have imagined it' she laughed, taking her time to stretch her arms before speaking again. 'What inspired you to do such a job all of a sudden?' she asked me, her tired voice echoing into a yawn.  
  
'I don't know.' I replied. 'I've always had an interest in cameras, and not until recently, I've been 'noticing' things, and sometimes, I feel like I need to keep it with me'  
  
'Syaoran Li, you just told me twenty minutes ago that you enjoyed to ruin your film to savor it all.' She then spoke. I nodded and then quickly replied.  
  
'Tomoyo, an hour ago, you told me we'd be having a cup of coffee.'  
  
She laughed again, leaning her feet against the radiator on the side. 'Its getting late, Syaoran' she noted, watching the clock that hung from her wall.  
  
'Yea, I can tell. I don't think any trains run this late, do they?' I asked her. She went into a moment of thought, and then slowly shook her head.  
  
'Syaoran, you doing anything tomorrow at all?' she asked me, throwing her hair behind her head. She looked at me, a face that revealed that she probably wanted me to say 'no'. I shook my head, and it was true. I had nothing to do.  
  
'Syaoran, I have an extra matress in the closet. Pull it out, get some sleep here, and I'll give you that cup of coffe I promised tomorrow, ok?' she offered. I didn't refuse, instead, I walked over to the closet.  
  
'Syaoran' she then said from behind me. 'Perhaps we can see Sakura together tomorrow?'  
  
I turned around and looked at Tomoyo. It was silent again, I didn't move at all. Instead, the constant tick-tocking of her clock echoed through the room.  
  
'You know what, Syaoran. Get some sleep, we'll discuss it in the morning.' she finally said, walking into the bathroom to take a shower. I pulled out the mattress and put it down on the floor.  
  
Lets go see her together.  
  
Or perhaps, I would see her afterall.  
  
alone. 


End file.
